Haakon
by Liberated Dragon
Summary: Mizuki doesn't know what her green eyed patron wants with it. But, he's willing to give a lot for it. So, what does she have to lose? I know the summary is terrible. Warning: this is rated for rape and gore.
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: This story talks about rape and gore! I suggest if you don't like this don't read it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or Thor characters. They are owned by Marvel and Walt Disney. I also do not own the Naruto character. He is owned by Masashi Kishimoto and Shonen Jump.

Note: I basically borrowed a Naruto character and dropped him into the Avengers' Universe. He's even been renamed, due to the story line. I'm not saying who it is, I think it would distract from the story. But, if you figure out who he is, cool!

Haakon

Mizuki lay stiffly on the hospital bed, her dark hair cascading over her bruised cheeks. They hadn't healed yet. What the monster had done to her. The bruises on her wrists, where he'd held her down, they remained too. But the true damage he'd done, the damage she could fix was going to taken care of. She would have this monster removed from her, have it torn from her and then maybe she could get some vengeance for the wrong done. If she could only find him and show him what she had done. Would it hurt him like he had hurt her? Would he care for the death of his little monster?

He had to! She had no other way to lash out at him. No other way! He put it there! He had to care! He had to!

She broke down and cried, rage and self-loathing filled her.

She stilled, as a man walked in through the clinic's door. She expected the doctor, the one who would help remove this abomination.

But, it wasn't! She held her breathe and scooted to the far wall. She'd had enough of strange men she didn't know! She wouldn't be caught again, wouldn't be hurt again!

The man stood just within the door, staring at her intently as if looking for something. Then, his eyes, sharp emerald green, brightened as he must have seen what he wanted.

He walked, nearly floating in his graceful step, towards her. If it hadn't been for the terror she was feeling and the experience that had brought her to the clinic, she would have found him handsome. He wore a long, gray coat over his tall, leanly muscled body. His dark hair framed his pale, elegantly chiseled face and cascaded past his shoulders.

He smiled, a light lifting of the corners of his lips, as he reached out his hands in a placating gesture of calm.

His lips opened, and words like silver flowed from those lips, and although, in her terror, she didn't comprehend what he was saying, not even noticing if it was her language or not, she found herself relaxing.

The soothing, silky sounds became words.

"My dear, I have not come to harm. I come in peace."

She stared at him through drooping lashes as he moved around the bed and stood to her right. He looked down at her, and she was ashamed to find her cheeks heating from the green fire that burned in his eyes.

"I have come to make a deal," he purred, a chair slowly slid across the floor, and he calmly sat down.

"A deal?" she slurred, feeling uncomfortably clumsy in front of this man.

"Yes," he responded, "a very rewarding deal."

"Rewarding?"

"Yes, would you like money?"

She frowned in confusion, "Money?"

"Yes, "he cooed, "money. That would be most helpful, wouldn't it?"

He lifted a dark eyebrow, as he patiently waited for her response.

She blinked, her mind trying to catch up to the starting conversation, "What do I have that you want?"

Even in her drowsy state, she couldn't help but cringe slightly as one of the man's hands reached out and brushed her still small belly with his long elegant fingers.

"I want your child," he sighed.

Suddenly, the drowsiness didn't matter and she was once more against the head of the bed, cringing away from the man and his unexpected touch.

"Calm yourself," his voice sung, "I wish no harm to you or the child in which you carry."

"Who are you?" she screamed, "Why do you want this?" Her hands went to her stomach, clenching the vile thing. Her eyes widened as some realization hit her. "Is this yours? Did you put it there?" Her teeth clenched, "No, you can't. I won't let you!"

The man had calmly sat, watching her passively, his eyes carefully watching her tirade. He made no move to come closer. But, calmly waved a hand and a file folder fell into his hand and he opened it to the first page. Her eyes grew wider and she stilled in terror.

"Let's see," he perused the pages, "ah, your description of your attacker." He paused to look her in the eyes.

"You said you could see his eyes through the mask. You said they were brown." He leaned forward, bringing his eyes to her level. "What color are my eyes?"

She paused, knowing instantly she had been wrong, but then, the appearing folder didn't assure her that he wasn't dangerous, "They're green!"

"Ah, well, I guess I wasn't the one who harmed you." He frowned at her, his voice dripping with pride, "I assure you, my lady, it would be beneath my skills to use force to get what I'm sure I could get quite willingly."

She once more found herself blushing, despite herself.

"Why do you want this?" she gestured toward the lump in her belly. Her eyes narrowed, "Are you one of those activists…"

"No, no my dear, I have only interest in the one you are carrying. The others can do whatever they want with theirs. I just want him."

"Him?"

"Yes." She watched as his hands reached out again and gently stroked her belly. She was too shocked to cringe away from the unwanted touch.

Her eyes darted between his hand and his face, watching this seemingly tender moment. However, she couldn't let it continue.

"You said you had a deal?" He paused his stroking to turn his eyes towards her.

Four Months Before

They stood quietly, the new Avengers, well, not all of them. They had just lost one! Steve, Captain America, still remained, his genetically enhanced body allowing him to live longer than the rest, bowed his head as he sat, holding his hands together, as he pondered the loss of someone so young.

Thor, nearly immortal compared to the Midgardians, stood at a corner looking out the windows to the gray storm clouds, his mind also wondering why one so young and short-lived could be gone. Would he be in Valhalla? He hoped so. It had been a heroic death.

One of the other two, younger and not nearly so used to the repeated horror of death, sat quietly on the opposite side of the room. Sheila, a crack-shot with anything you placed in her hands, a replacement for the aged Hawk-Eye, quietly sat, emulating her hero, and tried not to cry. Her pale- blue eyes were sensitive and you could still see the reddening around them as the tears fought to swell against her will.

The other one, Chris, personally picked replacement of Tony Stark, paced back and forth, the nearly manic energy that had endeared him to his predecessor not allowing him to sit still. His hazel eyes darted around the room, while his hands ran through his red-brown hair, as he seemed to try to rack his mind to fix this. Everything could be fixed, if you thought hard enough. Couldn't it?

"Could you please stop moving?" the young woman asked, anything to distract from the tears she was fighting.

"No, I can't!" the young man rebutted, "and how can you just sit there?"

Steve looked up at the boy, "Kid, just calm down, I know you're angry, but it won't do any good yelling at her."

"Angry? Who said I was angry?" the young man jerked around to look at the older man, his hands waving above his head. "Why would I care if that up-tight, better than you punk is dead? I mean, it's not like I worked these last few years trying to get along with him! It's not like he was just finally starting to laugh at my jokes!" He screamed, not noticing the tears on his cheeks.

The older remaining men sighed; Thor turning to try to comfort the young man, but that was before the helicarrier lurched in the sky and alarms sounded. The remaining four lurched into the hallway, their pain momentarily forgotten. They stared in shock as energy like dancing lightening pulsated down the walls.

Thor took one look at the green crackling energy and charged down the hallway, screaming a name that the younger two had only read in old files before their time. They looked at each other and then at the remaining older member.

"He didn't say what I thought he said," Chris asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

Steve grimaced, and took a heavy breath, "Yeah, Loki!" He then charged after his Asgardian companion, the younger two close on his heels.

They followed the pulsing energy to the strongest point, the morgue. They paused, looking at the door, wondering what the trickster could want there.

"Loki! What have you done?"

The deep, angry bellow of their team-mate was a clarion call for them to charge the door and stare in shock.

He was sitting on the floor, like he didn't care or wasn't worried about his guests. Sheila suspected both, as she pulled a handgun from its holster and aimed it at the surprisingly pale, handsome man, or god.

But, he continued to ignore them. He just looked up at Thor from the cold body he had draped over his lap. They all cringed when he looked at his face. Tears streaked from his eyes, and down his cheek and through the blood that smeared across his lips and down his chin. One arm held the cold body of their deceased companion, the one to replace Romanova, close to chest. But, they could still see the empty hole cut through the corpses pale ribs.

They watched in horror as Loki's other pale, blood soaked hand lifted a piece of blood red tissue to his lips. Their minds cringed and faces contorted as they realized that was the last piece ripped from their companion's chest. The last piece of their companion's once beating heart was shakingly place in the trickster's mouth and with a pained grimace that closed red-rimmed green eyes, it was swallowed whole.

"Brother!"

Another pulse of green energy, or magic, ricocheted off the sorcerer, obviously more powerful than before. It nearly knocked them off their feet.

Loki just looked up at them, his eyes: tired, pained, unfocused as new tears flowed down his cheeks. He suddenly stood, the cold body falling to the floor forgotten.

"He's not here!" His eyes traveled the room as if searching, "Not anymore!"

He wobbled as he stepped over the body. The older Avengers were too shocked to see their once nemesis in such a state of unfocused despair. The younger members weren't sure what was happening, Sheila wondering if she should take a shot and Chris wondering if he should call his suit.

Thor stepped forward, no longer able to look at his brother's lost expression. He grabbed him around the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in silken black, and pulled him towards him to look into lost green.

"Loki! Loki!" His hands reached up to cup his brothers face; it hadn't changed much in the 22 years since he last saw him. A pale smooth brow wrinkled as wide green eyes looked up into thundering blue. Thin, pink, blood-covered lips opened and closed as eyebrows lowered in confusion.

At last he managed, "He's gone...mine…my Haakon… not here!"

Blue startled eyes darted for an instant at the body discarded on the floor, and then stared into dark, wet emeralds, and his words came out in a heart-wrenching sigh, "Yours…your Haakon?"

Loki back straightened; his face grew firmer with resolve, "Yes, my Haakon."

"Oh Loki, I'm so sorry!" New tears ran from ocean blue, "I swear, I did all in my power to …"

His lips were stopped as a bloody finger covered it. Pained green eyes stared into watery blue, and he smiled, a sad forgiving smile, which took Thor's breath away. And then Loki was gone.

The Avengers stood in stunned silence. Their eyes rested on the corpse lying in the middle of the floor, then to Thor who seemed unable to speak as tears welled in his eyes. He quietly left the room, obviously not willing to answer the questions in their eyes.

The remaining three walked to their friend's cold body, knowing they were going to pick up the discarded corpse. Chris stood over the body, looking down at it, feeling an ache that he was sure the others felt as well, but then, he never quite said what he felt.

"Terrible shame! He was just beginning to laugh at my jokes!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimor: These characters are owned by Disney and Marvel and I don't make any money off of them. The other character is owned by Masahi Kishimoto and Shounen Jump.

Note: I mention again, that I borrowed a character from Naruto. I don't want to mention who, I'm afraid it will distract from the story. The character has even been renamed, not because I'm trying to steal him, but because I don't think the story-line would make sense for him to keep his name. But, a rose with any other name…blah, blah, blah. Yeah, it's still him with new experiences to affect how he behaves.

Haakon Chapter 2

Mizuki walked through the building. No, it was more like a mansion! She had agreed to the trickster's deal. What did she have to lose? She was promised money, lots of it. Money she could use to rebuild her life. Money she could use for her everyday needs, her medical needs, her… mental needs.

Yeah, she was going to need help with the nightmares. She still had dreams of him! Him coming through the windows, the doors, even somehow sliding through the walls! She could never feel safe, as long as she knew he was out there! And she didn't know if she could put her faith in the cops finding him for her.

But then, that had been an important part of the deal. She had insisted on it!

Her patron wanted the monster inside her, something she never called the thing out loud. She could sense her Patron didn't care for that language, as his green eyes darkened and narrowed at her in suppressed anger. He may have chosen to make an accommodating deal with her, but she had no doubt he could take what he wanted by force if he so chose. So, she didn't feel like pushing her luck with him.

But, he had seemed mildly amused with her demand! He had said that it might take him a while to do as she wished, but he would honor it, if she would move into his mansion, where he could ensure the monster's care.

And she had figured, why not? She was staying in what she assumed was one of many mansions owned by her patron. It was comfortable, warm, and she got whatever she wanted. Her patron doted on her. Well, he seemed to. She suspected he was doting on the creature inside her, through her.

But, what did she care! She wasn't looking for any attention from any man. Not after that night! Regardless of how handsome the man was. Regardless of how like a prince from a fairy tale he was. She understood the illusion. He had never once let her think he wanted anything from her but the thing inside her.

She stared out the windows facing the bay that the mansion nearly sat on. She wondered if the house was partially floating in that bay. She could walk out on the porch, look over the edge, and look into dark waters. But, the porch doors were locked. Maybe her doting Patron was afraid she'd throw herself into those deep waters.

No, she wouldn't. She didn't want the thing inside her, but she wanted to live through this ordeal. Her Patron's bargain seemed to be the best choice.

She turned from the large windows and wondered through the large room towards the large plush green love seat. Her Patron did love the color green. His home was primarily a pristine white, with large splashes of green highlights, with a very small sprinkle of red. The red seemed like an afterthought, something that wasn't there due to the tastes of her Patron, but some other reason she couldn't identify. He didn't seem to like it when she asked.

She was allowed to wonder anywhere she wanted, but the porch, the basement, and one bedroom. At least she thought the third room was a bedroom. It was on the second floor and it should face the bay. It was probably a magnificent view. She thought at first that it belonged to her Patron, but she'd accidently walked in on him in his bedroom. He'd seemed only mildly annoyed at the disturbance, but had immediately asked if she required anything. So, she figured he didn't do anything but sleep in that room and it was open for her to ask for any assistance.

She turned on the television, something he'd only gotten on her request; his interests didn't involve the foolish! But then, she was bored, a little foolish entertainment was better than nothing. Better than sleep that inspired nightmares!

She nearly jumped as the porch doors swung open with a blast of cold chill. Her Patron walked in the door, not explaining how he came about that way or why. His graceful saunter belayed nothing out of the ordinary, even as a body drifted in after him.

Mizuki found herself pushed up against the farthest arm of the love seat as her heart instantly knew who the man her Patron had dangling in mid-air for her. Even through the pulsing green energy dancing around his body, she could see his eyes. Those were the eyes that haunted her nights.

Her eyes darted to her Patron; he just lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head in silent question, his black silken hair brushing across one shoulder.

"He can't move?"

"No, he won't harm either of you," the silver voice reassured.

She stood up and carefully shuffled over to the ensnared man, her eyes wide as they scanned him over. He wasn't what she expected. He looked normal. He didn't appear to be the monster of her nightmares.

"Are you sure this is Him?"

"Yes," she cringed slightly at the offense suppressed in his voice. "I have found him. I have confirmed that he is the match to the child in your womb." A fine eyebrow lifted again, "What do you wish to do with him?"

She blinked, she hadn't thought that far. Some part of her had been convinced her Patron would never find him, and with the bargain broken, she would continue with the seeming inevitable death of the monster inside her.

But, here was the original monster, floating supine, back arched, head hanging to face her, terrified eyes darting between her and her Patron.

Her Patron sighed, "Do you want to let him go?"

"No!"

"I figured not, if you did, you may be responsible for his next victim. I did find him stalking another woman." Emerald eyes narrowed, and lips curled, "He seems to have a taste for brunettes."

Mizuki curled into herself. She'd never hurt anyone before. Even as she felt hot rage inside her, even as she felt her body tremble with the power of that rage, she couldn't…just couldn't.

"Could we hand him to the cops?" she gritted, but even as she said it, she knew the answer.

"Your mortal law would let him go without evidence. Then there is the little issue of following their rules about finding such evidence," his voice scoffed.

She shook her head. She couldn't let him go. She couldn't trust the cops to put him where he belonged. Her eyes looked into her Patron's. She did her best not to drown in those shimmering jade pools of fire, while still trying to convey her silent prayer.

He snorted, but lifted his hand and flicked his fingers and a small, double-edged dagger appeared in his hand. He calmly grabbed the man, no, the monster, by the neck, forcing his back to arch even more, baring his chest towards her. Then, with one quick thrust, he buried his dagger into the creature's heart.

She wanted to cringe, to retch, as she heard him scream, but she held her ground, and stared into those horrible pain-filled brown eyes until they darkened.

No more nightmares! No more worrying! She was going to get her peace and if watching this horror was her payment for it, so be it.

She fell to her knees, she felt relief flood her. He was gone! She didn't have to fear he'd be hiding in the shadows stalking her. No more!

"Here," her head snapped up to look at her Patron as he held something out to her, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"It would be better if it was willingly given, but from an enemy there are some mild benefits."

She stared at the bloody muscle in his hand, and proceeded to retch, but not before she watched him toss the body out the porch doors and into the dark waters!

About Three Years Before

Glass flew as a body flew out of the windows of Stark tower's sparring room. Maybe not the best place for a god to be sparring with a new replacement, but it had been a spur of the moment decision. Thor wanted to see how the replacement for Romanova would fare, even against the tower owner's protests.

But, Tony Stark, hair gray, but still as melodramatically energetic, couldn't help make a few snarky comments as Thor flew back in through the window, he had been unceremoniously blasted out.

"Hey, should I be calling you the ex-God of Thunder, because I swear that looked like a lightening attack that sent you flying, and not nearly as gracefully as usual out my window? And by the way, you need to replace that! What is with you gods and breaking windows?"

Thor ignored him, and charged the 18 year old boy, or more accurately young man, who held his ground, dark hair fanning around his pale face, as his red eyes followed the movements of the flustered god.

Thor swung towards the new Avenger, and swung through empty space, as he felt a crackle of energy across his back. He spun to find the young man several feet away, his katana still crackling with electric energy after taking a swipe at Thor's back as he'd passed.

"Hah," Thor bellowed, "you missed!"

Red eyes faded to black, as an eyebrow lifted, and a smirk fought to capture the young man's lips. He lifted his hand to wave a flag of red.

Thor's eyes widened as he spun to look around him, but of course, couldn't actually see the condition of his back. However, from the uproarious laughter coming from his friend Stark, he knew he'd been bested. His poor cloak. He'd have to get a new one. He'd didn't want to explain to his friends of Asgard how he came to losing another one.

He sighed, and dropped his hammer to the ground, but then laughed good natured, "Very well fought, I admit defeat!"

The young man smiled, please by the admission and put his katana in the sheath strapped across his back.

They reached out and shook hands.

"You will be a most welcome addition to this team! I'm sure you will serve your realm well!"

The young man barely reacted to the enthusiastic thump to his back from the god, but smiled politely, "Thank you, I only wish to serve."

Stark strutted over to the two, "Well, minus my window, that went great. So, Point Break here will introduce you to the rest of the team. It's not as great as it used to be, since their greatest player isn't there anymore, but Chris will do fine in my place. He's almost as brilliant as me, but then no one can be perfect, right!"

Both Thor and the young man's lips twitched, attempting to fight their amusement. They'd both learned that humoring the aging, yet still brilliant Avenger was for the best.

"So," the older Avenger's eyes blinked a moment, "what was your name again?"

The dark haired man sighed, "Haakon."

"Haakon?" The ex-man of iron snorted, "What kind of name is Haakon?"

Thor interrupted, "It's a Norse name. Yet, my young friend, you do not look Norse!"

"Yeah," Stark added, "you look like you match that Japanese sword more than you match the name."

"My father named me."

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain…" began Tony.

"I'm adopted."

Haakon did an excellent job of hiding the smirk, as the two older Avengers flinched.

Later, Haakon walked into his private residence in the Stark tower, through the entry room and through the living area to his private dojo. Mr. Stark had been kind enough to design the room for him.

Haakon sighed as he closed the door, and pressed the button that would make the clear windows opaque so he could be sure no one watched him. Then, he walked over to a small dresser in the corner and grabbed what looked like a decorative, green crystal ball.

He placed the crystal on the wooden dojo floors and spun it. He stood patiently, as instead of slowing; the ball rotated faster, crackling green energy, building until it formed an image.

"Hello Father," Haakon greeted, as he bowed his head respectively.

He looked up at the image of his father, who turned from whatever magical experiment he was doing to look at his son. He wasn't wearing his more colorful long, green, and gold riding jacket. He wore something more lax, a plain green tunic that hugged his thin, yet broad shoulders to hang loosely around his narrow hips. His pants were a regular black. His dark tresses were pulled back into a low pony-tail, giving his father the illusion of shorter hair. It made him seem younger, maybe just a little older than Haakon himself.

But, his father's eyes told a different story. They danced with the fire of long memory, of joys and pains that Haakon was sure he could never understand. The pain in those fires was always the most unbearable. He would wash them away if he could. But, he knew not how, so he could only stare with loving devotion into the flames. He knew he'd always loved the fire. His father's was no different.

His father's silver tenor voice danced across his ears as he laughed in delight at seeing his son, "How is my boy? You have not spoken to me for a while."

Again, Haakon could see the pain dance within his father's eyes, and he was ashamed that he was the cause. He bowed his head again, "My apologies father. I have been busy and distracted! But, I should not have let them distract me from my duties to you!"

His father chuckled, as his eyes narrowed, the ever expressive wrinkles in his forehead smoothing in happiness. "Do not worry about that! Tell me now, what are you doing?"

Haakon fought the twitch of his lips as he tried in his most dead-pan voice, "I've joined the Avengers."

He watched his father eyes blink rapidly as he obviously wasn't expecting this response, and even his brilliant mind, more so than Stark's Haakon believed, needed a moment to digest this new information.

Then, he began to laugh. It tinkled like bells across Haakon's mind as they became stronger, till his father was folded over and holding his stomach, tears running down his face. Haakon smiled at his father's moment of joy, any joy he could add to the fire that was his father was but a small offering.

His father eventually regained his composure, wiping the tears from his cheeks and eyes. "So, how is your uncle?"

"I threw him out Stark's window!"

And once more, his father was laughing, and once more Haakon was glad for the offering.

After a time, Haakon's father settled down, pulling at his wrinkled tunic to straighten it out as he tried to reclaim his dignity. But, the delighted smile still remained as he refocused on his son.

"Well, what is your plan?"

"Nothing really, Father." Haakon shrugged his shoulders. "I just figured this was the best place for my skills. I definitely won't get bored." He leaned forward conspiratorially, "Boredom does not seem to be a good thing in our family."

His father's lips twisted in amusement, but didn't let himself fall into laughter again. He smiled and his eyes softened as he focused on his son again, "As long as your happy, Haakon."

"Thank you, Father." He bowed again, "However, if you require anything of me while I am here, you only need ask."

His father frowned, "And your friends?"

Haakon straightened to full attention to solemnly hold his father's gaze. "My loyalty is always to you first! To the one being who saved me! To the one being who went out of his way to save me from never-ending death! You ask of me, I will do! Ask for my heart, and I will cut it from my own chest and…"

"No!"

"But Father, it is the least I can do. What little life I will be granted this time around is only because of you. How can I deny you?"

"No!" His father screamed. "I have told you to never to bring this subject up again! I will hear no more!"

His father turned, ready to turn off the illusion.

"No, Father! Please, I am sorry I upset you! I will not say it again!" He fell to his knees, old habits, centuries old, taking control. He bowed his head to the floor in submission.

He could see the green glow still reflecting off the dojo floors, and raised his head to see his father looking down at him sadly. His father's expressive eyes, a gentle blaze of pain touched his eyes and once more he felt ashamed.

"Father, I will not ask you take my heart now. But, promise me," he didn't blink as he stared into his father's eyes, "promise me, when I die," he brought up his hand to placatingly cut off his father's rebuttal, "for I am not immortal, that you will take my heart then. It will not make you as strong as taking it from my living body. But my heart given freely will make you stronger."

He bowed his head toward the floor, "please, when my death comes, let it be of use to you!"

Silver, but sad words ghosted across his ears, "Yes, I promise! But, I pray it will not be soon!"


End file.
